


First Timer

by kittenofdoomage



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crack, Humor, Possession
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-24
Updated: 2018-04-24
Packaged: 2019-04-27 12:25:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14425368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittenofdoomage/pseuds/kittenofdoomage
Summary: Someone tagged me in this prompt on Facebook. “You’re possessed by a demon. You quickly realize he’s never done this before.” And thus, the crack!fic was born.





	First Timer

It was Tuesday. You were late for work (standard), there was a run in your pantyhose and the remnants of your drive-thru Starbucks coffee was slowly dribbling down the dashboard as you sat in the traffic on the freeway. There were six missed calls from your boss on your cell, glaring at you from the cup holder and a text message threatening you with dismissal if you didn’t answer.

So when black smoke billowed around your car and then seemed to suck itself into your body, it wasn’t exactly the worst part of your day.

You didn’t faint. For a few seconds, there was a loud rushing of wind in your ears and you were completely blinded; your lungs swelled with a deep breath that you held and your fingers clung to the steering wheel until your knuckles were white.

Like sitting up from water, the blindness cleared and you exhaled, rapidly refilling your lungs. Shaking your head, you suddenly realized you weren’t alone.

Your head turned to the left of its own accord, observing the little old lady knitting in the passenger seat while her husband yelled answers at the radio host of the game show he was listening to. Looking to the right, you caught the driver of a seafood van picking his nose and eating it. Like Linda Blair, your head swiveled back around to stare out of the windscreen.

In front of you, a white Mazda had a bumper sticker on the plate that said “LOWER THAN YOUR GRAN’S NIPPLES”.

“Hello?” you asked, shocked to find your own voice echoing in your head and your lips not moving. Trying to flex your fingers, you slowly came to the conclusion that you had no control over any of your faculties; you couldn’t even blink.

Never in your life had you been aware of how dry your eyeballs could get.

“Hello?” you asked again, feeling a bit like you were being smothered.

_“Um. I don’t think I’m supposed to talk to you.”_

The voice was male, slightly timid, and gave all the appearance of a thought, except that you knew it wasn’t yours. “What are you?”

Silence. If you’d been able too, you would have been bitch-facing in the rear-view mirror. The Mazda in front lurched forward two inches and you knew you were going to lose your job.

“Look, I’m late for work, I spilled my coffee - can I please have my body back so I don’t end up getting killed on the freeway?” The little voice didn’t answer and you watched your fingers move on the wheel. It was odd - you could feel the movement, but you couldn’t control it. “Okay, this isn’t funny. I was already having a bad day.”

_“Could you be quiet? I’m trying to figure this out.”_

His outburst was unexpected and if it was a thing, you narrowed your eyes mentally at the intruder. “Figure what out?”

 _“This!”_ Your arms flailed off of the wheel, cracking your knuckles against the roof of your car and the pain made you yelp. Whatever was controlling you squeaked in your voice and clutched the damaged hand.

“Ow!” you accused. “That hurt!”

 _“Sorry,”_  it apologized.  _“I’m rather new at this.”_

“New at what?” you demanded, curiosity getting the better of you.

 _“I’m a demon,”_ it explained.  _“In order to be here, I have to possess someone.”_

“Why me?”

_“You were the closest source of anguish at the time.”_

“Gee, thanks.”

Your body sighed and slumped in your seat like a puppet with cut strings. The demon didn’t do anything for a few minutes and you itched to blink rapidly for a minute until you cried the dust out of your eyes. Someone honked a horn and it startled your unwanted guest; this time, your foot hit the gas and the car shot forward, into the back of the Mazda.

“Oh shit,” you muttered, suddenly realizing your guest had relinquished control of your body and you saw the door of the Mazda open, a large, menacing looking woman heading your way.

Tuesdays fucking  _sucked_.

*****

Trudging up the sidewalk to your apartment block, you cursed the entire day. You hadn’t heard a peep out of whatever had caused the morning’s accident, not even when your now former boss was screaming in your face. Needless to say, you’d lost your job and your car was in the shop until you could find a way to pay for damages to it  _and_  the Mazda.

The only good piece of luck you’d had today was that the driver of Mazda was actually a rather stern looking nurse who seemed very concerned when you said you didn’t know what had happened or how you’d managed to ram your car into hers in stationary traffic.

But even that plus side of hitting a nice person with your car came with a trip to the emergency room and a six hour wait to be told there was nothing wrong with you.

Maybe you had imagined it. Maybe you had a seizure.

Your key was in the door to your apartment and you ignored the eviction sign on the door, intent on drinking a very large glass of wine and watching a trashy movie. But apparently, you still weren’t alone.

 _“You’re very good at ignoring your problems,”_  the demon said and you jumped, stumbling backwards and screaming in fright at the sudden voice. You clutched your chest, looking around frantically.  _“Sorry. There isn’t really a subtle way to announce myself.”_

“You’re quite polite for a demon,” you growled, righting yourself and returning to unlocking your apartment door. Once inside you threw your purse onto the couch and went straight for the fridge. “But why are you still here?” At least he hadn’t - you were assuming it was a he anyway, which might have been rude - taken control of your body again.

Using “control” as a very loose term.

_“You’re assuming because I’m a demon that I’m a bad person. And I am male. I think.”_

“So you can read my mind?” you asked aloud, slipping your fingers around the large bottle of wine in the fridge. The cool glass grounded you a little, even if you still considered the possibility you might need a straight jacket and a padded cell.

_“Yes.”_

“Why can’t I read yours?”

_“I’m not exactly a corporeal being. Trust me, this is as weird for me as it is for you.”_

You rolled your eyes, not bothering with a glass for the wine, twisting the lid off and taking a big gulp. “I highly doubt that,” you murmured, heading over to the couch with the bottle. “So, why are you here?”

_“I have a mission.”_

He said it like it was the most simple thing in the world but it mean approximately fuck all to you and you swigged at the bottle again. Maybe a hangover would help. Not like you had to go to work tomorrow. “Mission?”

_“I have to find someone.”_

“Vague, much?”

_“You wouldn’t know who they are or where to find them, so what’s the point in saying anything else?”_

“You’re a bit of a dick,” you commented, the effects of the wine causing the front of your head to feel heavy. “Can’t you go and find someone else?” There was a silence, and you narrowed your eyes at yourself, leaning forward on the couch to place the bottle of wine on the coffee table. “Well?”

 _“I’m stuck,”_ the demon admitted in a very small voice.  _“I don’t know how to… get out of you.”_

“You… you’re stuck?” you exclaimed. One bottle of wine wasn’t going to be enough. “Are you new at this or something?” The silence this time was filled with condemnation and you swallowed, sitting back on the couch cushions and pinching the bridge of your nose. “Oh my god. Is this your first time?”

 _“Do you have to say it like that?”_  he whined pitifully. _“Not all of us go out in the big wide world you know. I’m not the only one who had never had a vessel.”_

"Wait, what do you mean you've never had a vessel?" you asked, tilting your head like you were having a conversation with the person next to you. “What’s a vessel?”

_"A human meatsuit. We possess people. And no, I never had one."_

You thought about that for a moment, swiping the bottle from the coffee table again. “I might need something stronger than this,” you lamented, drinking a third of the bottle in one long gulp. The demon was quiet for a second, then spoke again.

 _"It’s not necessarily a bad thing that I never had a vessel. I was in the mail room. We don't get out much anyway, and when we do, we’re normally incorporeal.”_ You kept swigging at the wine, listening to him inside your head.  _“I went to the Cage once. That was fun. Team bonding day arranged by Sheila in the cafeteria. We got to see a whipping."_

There were a thousand questions running through your head but the one that came out was: "Hell has a mailroom?"

 _"Well, where do you think they get their summons from?"_ the demon replied indignantly.  _“I was one of the quickest there was! That’s why they wanted me to find the Winchesters. But I don’t know how I’m going to do that when I can’t figure out how to even make you blink.”_

You sighed, shaking your head. “The Winchesters? That’s who you have to find?”

_“Yes. We believe they’re in Ohio at the moment.”_

“Well, that’s at least a fifteen hour drive,” you pointed out.

_“I wouldn’t know. I don’t even know where Ohio is or how to drive. And I’m running out of time.”_

Considering your options, you tapped your chin thoughtfully. “What’s your name?” you asked and the demon sort of sighed but it felt very odd inside your head.

_“Berth.”_

“Berth, I lost my job, I lost my car and I’m about to lose my apartment,” you started, handing over all responsibility of what you were about to do to the almost empty bottle of wine clutched in your fingers. “How about we go on a road trip?”

*****

The agreement came about that Berth would direct you, remaining safely away from the pedals of the rental car you paid for with the last of your savings. You packed up a few things that were irreplaceable to you and abandoned everything else in your apartment, leaving the key on the mat for the landlord. As an afterthought, you scribbled “ _fuck you_ ” on the eviction notice, picked up your suitcase and walked out.

Halfway down the interstate, you realized Berth had been quiet for some time. “Everything okay?”

_“Yes, I suppose.”_

“That didn’t sound entirely confident,” you replied, tapping your hands on the steering wheel. “What’s wrong?”

_“I didn’t realize how much the world had changed since I became a demon.”_

“How long have you been a demon?”

 _“Centuries? I think.”_ He didn’t sound sure in the slightest.  _“I remember lots of fighting. Wars.”_

“Well that could mean any time in ever,” you chuckled, guiding the car into the outside lane. “You really don’t remember?”

 _“Demons are humans that got sent to hell,”_  Berth explained. _“We get tortured, some turn, some don’t, and then we’re assigned specific jobs. Same as Heaven, just with more screaming. Unless your heaven is screaming, I guess.”_

You frowned. “Wait, Heaven is real too? What about angels?”

_“Never seen one but I’ve heard about them. Like I said, we don’t get out much in the mailroom.”_

“Did you kill someone?”

 _“What?”_  Berth’s voice was at a higher pitch than it had been.  _“Why would you say that?”_

“You’re a demon. You ended up in Hell. And murder is like, the worst thing you can do right?”

 _“Not necessarily,”_  Berth snorted indignantly.  _“You’d be surprised how peaceful death is compared to torture. Not that I ever go near the racks - they’re not exactly a holiday destination.”_  He’d gone off on a tangent and even thinking that had him back on track - you weren’t sure how comfortable you were with the complete lack of privacy.  _“Besides, I like my job. I’ve been doing it for at least six hundred years and I’m good at it. And why assume I murdered somebody?”_ There was tisking noise in your head that made you want to swat at your ear but you realized it was the demon giving a dramatically flared sigh.  _“I might have just been a massive asshole.”_

“Do you go to Hell for being a massive asshole?” you mused, indicating to pass a truck with big logs on it. You hadn’t been comfortable driving behind them since Final Destination 2. Or was it number 3?

 _“You know that’s not likely to happen, right?”_  Berth informed you, amusement flooding his tone.  _“Those sorts of incidents usually have a helping hand behind them and I’m the only one around here.”_  You poked your tongue out at yourself in the mirror, speeding past the truck anyway.  _“Ronald Reagan went to hell for being an asshole.”_

“Ronald Reagan went to Hell because he was a politician,” you commented and Berth laughed loudly.

 _“And that’s why Hell has a special rack for politicians.”_ His words trailed off into snickers and you wanted to know what he was laughing at. But at that moment, an old GMC truck with a rusted bumper decided to cut you up and you hit the horn, yelling loudly.  _“Whoa, calm down,”_  Berth chided as you swerved around the truck and flipped the driver off.  _“You know, you don’t need to scare the shit out of me in this thing.”_

“You’ve never been in a car before?”

 _“What, on the Highway To Hell?”_ Berth quipped and you snorted unattractively.  _“How long until we’re in Ohio, anyway?”_

“At least another fourteen hours,” you informed him and he sighed. “Come on, I wanna know more. Who else is in Hell? Is my Uncle Jim there? He was an asshole.”

*****

_“Okay, so according to what Sheila told me, the big one is Sam Winchester and the small one is Dean.”_

You blinked at the two huge men sitting across the diner from you, sipping coffee and discussing something over the paper. Lifting your cup of joe, you watched them over the brim of the cup, hissing to Berth under your breath. “Big one? They’re both fucking huge.”

_“I don’t know if this was such a good idea.”_

With a sigh, you placed your cup down, sliding from the stool. Almost immediately, Berth stopped your legs and you lurched forward, earning yourself a strange look from the waitress. “Something in my shoe,” you excused, pointing towards the bathroom door. Berth let you move and you scurried out of sight, locking the door and looking into the mirror.

Berth took over then, and your eyes flood with black. It was a strange look and it frightened you a little but not as much as talking to the two huge and gorgeous men that were apparently hunters who killed demons.

“Look,” Berth said, speaking in your voice. “I know you’re scared but you got us this far. You got us here in that death trap without any trouble and I’m confident you can explain this to them without them stabbing you.”

 _“It’s not just that,”_ you replied, unable to do anything but stare into the mirror.  _“They’re not just hunters. They’re really, really attractive men and I’m not so great with… human interaction, really.”_

“I’m sure it will be fine. You’re a pretty girl.”

_“You’re a demon who doesn’t remember his own life. How can you say I’m pretty?”_

“Just because I’m a demon doesn’t mean I don’t know what pretty looks like,” Berth said sternly, standing your body straight and placing your hands on your hips. “And if I wasn’t an incorporeal plume of smoke, I’d court you in a heartbeat.”

_“Wow, you are old. Court?”_

“Whatever. Can we go back out there? If they leave…”

_“Okay, okay, just let me do the walking, okay? I’ll let you explain all your stuff cos… well, I still don’t quite get the whole “going against Asmodeus” thing, but yeah. I’ll move. So you don’t look like an idiot.”_

Berth smiled widely using your lips. “Sure thing. You’re gonna do great.” Your hands came up into two thumbs up at yourself in the mirror, the grin ridiculously exaggerated and you imagined rolling your eyes at the demon. Your eyes flicked from black back to normal and Berth relinquished control of your body.

 _“I can’t believe we spent all night at that motel trying to teach you to work my body, and all you managed was an impression of Bob Kelso and looking sassy.”_  You internalized your thoughts and Berth sort of mentally shrugged. It was the only way to describe it.

_“I guess I need more practice.”_

“Not with me you don’t,” you muttered, shaking your head and unlocking the bathroom door, walking back out into the diner. The men were still sitting there and you rung your hands, trying to calm your nerves.

_“Relax. You got this. They’ll know how to send me home, don’t worry.”_

Taking a deep breath, you walked across the linoleum floor, still clasping your hands in front of you. “Hi,” you squeaked, getting the attention of both men. They looked up at you and you almost swooned at the intensity in their gazes. They’d been attractive from a distance - up close, they were downright GQ material. “Hi,” you repeated, giving them a pathetic little wave. “Sam and Dean, right?”

Instantly, their demeanor shifted into defense and suspicion and you laughed nervously.  _“Don’t do that,”_  Berth scolded.  _“The laugh thing.”_

“Shut up,” you snapped and the two hunters moved back, the glint of a knife in your peripheral vision. You started to sweat, that nervous cold perspiration that always trickled down in between your boobs. “Sorry. Er, my name is Y/N. And I need to talk to you guys.”

“What about?” the smaller one asked and god his voice was so gravelly, you felt your panties disintegrate. This was why you didn’t talk to men.

 _“Get a grip,”_  Berth snapped.

“I have information. About… shit, what was his name?”

_“Asmodeus.”_

“Asmodeuce,” you repeated incorrectly and defensive suspicion turned to outright alarm. Both men were on their feet, guiding you out of the diner quite roughly but you didn’t protest.

No one else in the diner seemed to give a single shit about what was happening.

Outside, it was cloudy and mild, but not raining yet. The men pushed you away from the diner, away from any prying eyes and then, you found yourself with a knife aimed at your throat. “Who are you?” Dean demanded and you felt like you were either going to piss yourself or cry.

“My name is Y/N… I… I… shit, I can’t do this!” you exclaimed. “Berth!”

Sam looked at you with an odd expression. “Who’s Berth?”

Your eyes flooded with black and the knife came closer, prompting you to scream and try to look away but Berth was in control now. “I am,” he said, standing firm in front of the hunters but in your head, you could feel his fright as clear as your own. “And I have information about Asmodeus.”

“Who’s the girl?” Dean demanded, fisting the collar of your coat and dragging your body even closer to the sharp edge of the blade. “Let her go!”

“I can’t tell you anything without a mouth!” Berth shrieked, finally snapping and cowering. “Y/N, I’m really sorry -” He cut off, forcing you to the front of your own mind and back into the driving seat. Your eyes returned to normal and you picked bursting into tears over soiling your pants.

“Please put the knife away,” you whimpered. “I promise, he’s not going to hurt anyone.”

Sam frowned, reaching over to push his brother’s hands down. “Okay, okay,” he soothed, holding his hands out, palms up in a peaceful gesture. “Just… start with your name again, yeah?”

You nodded, sobbing pitifully. Great. Falling to pieces in front of the two most attractive men you’d ever seen. If you’d ever had a hope in Hell, you sure didn’t now.  _“I’m Y/N. And Berth is a demon. He needed to get a message to you but he’s… he’s not very good at possessing people, so I said I’d help him.”_

Both men looked at you in complete and utter bewilderment and your shoulder sagged. Sam turned his head, craning his neck forward as he tried to make sense of the situation. “You’re possessed?” You nodded, wide eyes still watery but you’d stopped sobbing. “But the demon is… friendly?”

“Well, no, he’s not friendly. He’s a bit of a cocky jerk -”

_“Hey.”_

“And he’s clueless to boot but he’s not… he hasn’t hurt me.” You shrugged, watching Dean lower the knife as he searched his brother’s face for an answer to the strange situation. “He had to find you and give you the information about this Asmodouche guy and he didn’t know how to drive…”

“What kind of demon doesn’t know how to drive?” Dean scoffed and Sam shrugged.

“Berth hasn’t… he’s never been up here before. He hadn’t ever possessed anyone -”

 _“This is so embarrassing,”_  Berth groaned.

“I’m trying to help,” you told him but the Winchesters assumed you were talking to them.

Sam shook his head - he had the most glorious mane you’d ever seen on a man - and pressed his fingers against his temple. “Why are you trying to help?”

“Are you saying he was a virgin?” Dean snickered and Sam’s elbow darted out to jab him in the ribs. “What?”

 _“Please… stop talking,”_ Berth muttered desperately.  _“Let me take over. You’re doing a horrible job.”_

“I’m doing just fine,” you snapped. “Look, you lost me my car and my job, so you can damn well sit there and let me handle this. You told me what I needed to tell them, so sit back and shut up.”

Dean waved his hand, looking around with uncertainty. “Are you talking to… the demon?”

“His name is Berth,” you said, wringing your hands together again in a nervous habit. “And he works in the mailroom in Hell. His boss sent him here to tell you that Asmodeus hasn’t found Jack but that he is going to try and stop you opening the rift.” The Winchesters looked at you strangely. “I don’t know much about what it means, but Berth is kinda stuck in here and he wants to go home.”

“He’s stuck?” Sam repeated and you nodded again frantically.

“He said you’d know a way to get him out.”

Dean blinked in confusion. “Like an exorcism?”

 _“Yes!”_  Berth exclaimed and you jumped at the volume of it.

“Yeah,” you clarified.

“That might hurt you…” Sam warned, frowning. “If you have any injuries -”

Your brow dipped in a frown. “I don’t have any injuries. Berth possessed me a couple of days ago and since then, all I managed to do was damage a few more liver cells and stub my toe. He hasn’t done anything to me. He doesn’t even know how to work a phone.”

 _“You don’t need to make me sound quite so pathetic,”_  your demon passenger admonished, sounding like he was sulking.  _“I’m not completely useless.”_

“You’re not useless,” you told him, shaking your head. “You need to quit putting yourself down like that.”

 _“I’m the last hope of my kind to stop Asmodeus destroying us all.”_ Berth’s words were tense.  _“And I’m going to fuck it up.”_

“No, you’re not,” you assured him and Dean stepped back, looking up at the sky.

“This is giving me a headache,” he muttered and you glared at him.

“How do you think I feel?” you asked him and his cheeks turned red. “Look, Berth wants to go home and I’d like my body to be occupied by only me, so can you help or not?”

Sam smiled nervously, nodding and gesturing to himself and his brother. “We can help. We have a place, if you’re okay to come with us?”

You paused, suddenly unsure of going anywhere with them. What if they decided to stab you anyway? You didn’t know these men. Berth’s reluctant sigh echoed in your mind.  _“We don’t really have a choice, Y/N. Like you said, I want to go home and you don’t want me here forever. And it would be forever. Demons are immortal.”_

Well, that sucked. Heaving yourself forward, you pointed at the rental you were about to abandon. “Can I get my stuff? I’m kinda… well, I am homeless now. Everything I have is in the car.”

Sam’s smile turned gentle and genuine and he nodded. The expression on his face made you feel a little better, although Dean still looked a bit stabby. Pushing past them, you moved towards the rental, wondering where you’d gone wrong to end up here.

 _“Don’t worry,”_ Berth said unconvincingly,  _“I’m sure by tomorrow, this will all be a bad dream.”_

*****

“So that’s everything,” Berth said, flexing your fingers around the arms of the chair. There’d been some conflict over whether to restrain you before letting the demon say his piece but you’d won out in the end. Berth wasn’t dangerous - you trusted him.

“I gotta ask,” Sam said, sparing a brief glance at Dean. “Why are you doing this?”

“No one likes the princes of Hell,” Berth explained, digging one of your nails into the wood lightly. “All of them are douchebags and we don’t like Asmodeus especially. Have you heard the man speak?” Your body shuddered, which was an odd sensation when you weren’t in control. “Things were better under Crowley. We had order.”

There was a look of regret on Sam’s face and Dean looked away, guilt and sadness in his eyes. You filed that away for later investigation - Berth had told you about the sudden death of their former King. No one really knew what happened, he’d said, but you had a feeling Sam and Dean knew a little more.

“The mailroom was a smooth machine, then Asmodeus comes along with his new policies and it’s just… its been hell.”

“No one likes a change in management,” Dean sympathised and Berth curled your lips in a smile.

“I can see why so many demons speak highly of you, Dean Winchester.”

He blinked at the statement. “Wait, what?” Sam’s eyes were wide and you giggled inside your own mind. “Demons hate us.”

Berth shook your head. “Not all of them. Some of us like things a certain way - everyone get their summons, deals are made, douchebags get tortured - chaos isn’t all that fun in hell. There’s a lot of work that goes into it. A balance. You guys are part of that.”

The explanation left both Winchesters stunned and Berth lifted your shoulders in a shrug.

“I’m just saying, you’ve only seen the baddest of the bad. Angels are supposed to be good but we’ve all heard the tales. Demons are supposed to be bad but as I hear it, Crowley did a lot of things to keep the status quo.” He relaxed your body into the chair, folding your hands in your lap. “Everything you do is legend, among demons, angels… everyone.”

You couldn’t deny you were impressed. Not knowing anything but what Berth had told you, you felt like you were in the company of heroes, and you couldn’t help the slight curl of inferiority that pooled in your belly. Here you were, lamenting losing your job and material possessions when there were people in hiding fighting monsters.

It didn’t mean you wanted to pick up a gun and go hunting, heck no, that sounded hella dangerous. But there was no denying the inexplicable need to make your life mean something. Helping this demon with his quest was just the start, even if it just meant carting his incorporeal ass across the country.

“But,” Berth started again, “if it’s all the same to you… I’d like to go home now.”

Sam and Dean shared a look, before the younger of the two men sighed, nodding. “You’re sure it won’t hurt Y/N?”

Berth nodded “I’m sure. She hasn’t sustained any physical harm and I won’t resist. It might hurt me but…” He shrugged your shoulders again. “I live in Hell. I’m used to it.” Climbing to your feet, he wobbled a little, smiling nervously. “I’m never going to get used to this though.”

Dean smirked and Sam stood, gesturing to the war room. The demon directed your body to the big lit up table and made you lay down on it. Both Winchesters stood at the end of the table.

“Thanks for everything, Y/N. I hope I never have to see you again,” Berth said and you mentally smiled.

_“I hope so to, Berth. It’s been a pleasure.”_

He relinquished control as the hunters began to chant.  _“I hope you find something good in this world,”_  Berth added, just as the words started to tug him from your consciousness. There was the rushing of wind again, the sensation of being dunked in freezing cold water and then you could see again.

Black smoke was torn from your body, leaving everything dark for a split second, before you opened your eyes and saw Sam’s face. “Hey,” he said, grinning at you. “How are you feeling?”

You paused for a moment, letting him pull you up from the table. Everything was quiet inside your own head, apart from your own thoughts suggesting that a bacon sandwich would be fantastic right now. A smile spread across your lips.

“I’m feeling pretty good.”

*****


End file.
